


Nothing More

by Dr_Cat



Series: Like Minded [7]
Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Beaches, Gen, Summer, car shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Cat/pseuds/Dr_Cat
Summary: A day at the beach.
Series: Like Minded [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642711
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Nothing More

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own nor did I come up with Knight Rider or the characters mentioned in this story. They were created by the late Glen A. Larson and are copyrighted to NBC/Universal.

Another large wave crashes along the rock outcroppings of the shoreline below as the wind carries another wisp of sea spray up over my hood. It's a pleasant 77 degrees Fahrenheit, the clouds from this morning have dissipated completely, and, even though it is a touch humid today, Michael assures me this is perfect beach weather. Who am I to argue? This is my third summer spent with my partner and it is by no coincidence we always end up spending a day or three at the beach. Michael also assures me that what Devon doesn't know won't hurt him.

Seeing as we are in-between cases at the moment, I, too, don't see the harm in playing hooky, as it were. In fact, out of all the destinations we visit, I have to admit, the coast has become my favorite. Despite the saltwater which really can't damage my well-insulated circuitry and the dubious smell that can sometimes accompany the shoreline, there is something uniquely alluring about the sea.

The manner in which the wind shifts as weather conditions change. The way the waves never relent on their bombardment of the shore. The effect the sun has on the atmosphere as it radiates heat in the western sky. How it all fashions a grin that lights up my friend's face as he approaches. Nothing more is needed . . . well, maybe there was room for a bit of mischief.

"Ahoy there, Michael. Are we to weigh anchor so soon or is there another bronzing beauty in need of suntan lotion?" I ask boldly. His grin moves into a smirk as he comes up behind me and taps my hatchback with his right hand.

"Open up, wise guy," he says as I raise the latch for him to access the trunk, "And, for your information, she needs an extra towel which I just so happen to have."

"This wouldn't be due to the fact you'll be joining her, would it?" I question again, knowingly. As if on cue, his smile broadens.

"Maybe."

"Honestly, Michael, you're so predictable."

"Well, coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," he says, grabbing the blue beach towel before shutting the hatch. Following another pat on my roof, he begins his trek back down to the beach, but after a moment, I see he brings his wrist up to his mouth.

"Hey, Kitt."

"Yes, Michael," I respond on the comlink, running what the problem may be through my databanks. He looks so . . . thoughtful.

"I see you're not in bad company yourself there, pal."

Is he serious?

"Michael . . ." I begin warningly, but he cuts in as usual.

"Like you haven't noticed that new 84' Corvette," he states continuing his walk down the beach.

"85," I correct before I realize . . .

"Yup, you have. And how about the one to your left?" he asks. I sigh internally.

"A 1974 Barracuda customized with Crager tires, but just because I'm aware of my surroundings doesn't mean . . ."

"Though I wouldn't blame you if you did, buddy, try and not run off with them, okay?" he chides me. I can hear the laughter in his voice; he's joking, but it still bothers me. Does he really think I would leave?

"I wouldn't dare, Michael. You ought to know that by now," I say irritably.

"Sorry, Kitt. I know you wouldn't," he quickly amends, before adding suggestively, "For now, just try and keep your scanners on the scenery, pal, and I'll be back before you know it."

I decide not to dignify that statement with a response. Honestly, I know he's only trying to distract me from keeping too keen of an eye on him—Heaven knows, someone has to look after him. Humph, what a ridiculous concept anyway; runoff indeed. Though I may admire the automotive craftsmanship, I certainly don't have the attraction to other vehicles Michael is inferring.

Besides, I would never consider absconding with some up and coming, new production model that's both stylish and sporty; better refined than its precursor . . . Mm, well, I definitely wouldn't escape with this older, gas-guzzling but surprisingly well-built and powerful . . . okay, never mind that. The fact of the matter is, it was a wild idea and I'm staying put.

Alright, scenery then.

It's getting warmer now; 79 degrees, to be exact. Still no sign of clouds. Better tint the windows to keep my interior cooler . . . I wonder if that's Formal Black or Dark Moonstone Metallic on that Barracuda? A quick peek at my infrared spectrometer and, yes, it's Formal Black. Good choice . . . Okay, back to observing the beach and keeping Michael out of trouble.

He seems to be behaving himself. In fact, he and the young lady in the turquoise bathing suit are just talking. Well, no sign of danger, anyhow. It's still low tide; 2.18 being the predicted feet. Seagulls are riding the afternoon air currents; as long as their tired wings carry them away from the parking lot, I'll be happy . . .

I didn't notice the Corvette had a performance exhaust system. I wonder . . . yes, it is equipped with some high-performance parts. It appears they're still tweaking the air systems. I wonder if they're aware the disturber is faulty. Pity with it being new like that. You would think manufacturers of such costly equipment would do a better job of inspecting it before selling. I should let the owner know about it if they pop up. See, it pays to be aware of one's surroundings.

Right. Let's see, there goes another curl in the waves showing off the sea foam and is that . . . a car show!?

The Fifth Annual Marina Car Show according to the banner and it looks like it's just starting up. I focus my scanners back on Michael, and as if he knows I'm watching, he waves up at me. Why is it I get the feeling he knew about this car show. I watch as his companion looks to him questioningly and I'm sure he'll come up with some excuse for the gesture, both for her and me. Despite my suspicions, I slowly drift my explorations back to the car show as vehicles arrive.

They seem to have broken the venue up into several different categories, which is only appropriate for an event like this. Classic cars were in one section, while modern vehicles occupied another and still another division was roped off for exotics and imports. Some vintage automobiles were being brought in on trucks or trailers, seemingly too fragile for their owners to allow them to be driven. Ah, but others are raced in with all four tires on the ground, engine roaring; exhaust billowing . . . is it getting even warmer out here?

No, still 79 degrees. Must be the asphalt heating up beneath me. Better switch on my extra cooling systems. Heat, after all, is a CPU's worst enemy. Interestingly enough, it's also a danger to motors. Thanks to Bonnie, I don't have to worry about a threat to either. Speaking of Bonnie, I wonder how she's doing.

I bet she'd of enjoyed coming today. The weather's been so pleasant and I have it on good authority that most humans like the beach. She deserves a break just as much as we do. I'll have to suggest Michael invite her out here with us on occasion, though I'm sure he probably wouldn't. He's funny that way. Honestly, now that I think about it, so is Bonnie. Maybe it's a bad idea . . .

What on earth is that?!

I tap into my telescopic vision and see the most abominable thing I have ever seen; an egg. Why would they customize that poor 1973 Vega into a giant, brown, farm-fresh egg on wheels? How dare they? I begrudgingly admit it's their property and they absolutely have the right to, but just because you can certainly don't mean you should. Ugh, it reminds me of when I had to alter my appearance for that Rayburn case.

Wait . . . now, there goes a line of tastefully modified vehicles. A navy blue 63' Shelby Cobra with white racing strips; a 67' Ferrari—Rosso Corsa, of course—with a baby blue 55' Thunderbird following it up; each pulling into their respected places. There goes a 69' Roadrunner and a 73' Lamborghini and a 56' Bel Air. Roadsters, convertibles, compacts, full-sized, coupes, sedans; even trucks, and vans had a section. It's a viable smorgasbord of automotive ingenuity through the decades. Grant it, none of those vehicles had the equivalent of my capabilities, but it is still impressive.

"Hey, buddy. Ya ready to weigh anchor now?" I suddenly hear Michael to my right. It's not often I get distracted enough to miss his approach, but this embarrassingly seems to be one of those times. I open my driver's side door and decide to 'play it cool', as they say.

"Aye, aye, captain, though it is a shame to leave such beautiful scenery," I say casually before noticing his companion isn't with him, "Where's the young lady?"

A flash of confusion crosses his face before it gives way to an amused grin. He points to my left and there, sitting in the driver's seat of the Barracuda, is the blond-haired woman he had been entertaining on the beach earlier. I'm not only surprised, but I'm also downright disturbed by the fact I missed both their arrivals. I wasn't in surveillance mode, sure, but I still should have detected someone getting into the vehicle adjacent to me.

As she pulls the car out of its parking space, she beams and waves at my partner. I quickly turn my attention back to Michael. He's all smiles as he waves back before settling in the driver's seat. He manually closes the door and looks to my voice modulator with his right eyebrow raised. Either he's puzzled about something or suspicious. I'd prefer to skip any explanations.

"Are we headed back to the Foundation?" I ask quickly. He lets out a dismissive huff while he starts the engine.

"No, buddy. I asked Amanda if she'd like to go down there and see the car show. Figured, that way _we_ all can enjoy ourselves."

"I beg your pardon," I say automatically. Is he still implying . . .

"Come on, pal. I know how much you hate parking lots and this is a chance for you to rub fenders with the best of them," he grins.

"Really, Michael," I say dryly and, to my surprise, he frowns.

"Kitt, this is as much a break for you as it is for me," he says simply; sincerely. I'm . . . not sure how to respond to that. The engine idles down, the sound of the waves still crashing onshore drowning out my restless scanner.

"I did want to get a better scan of that 78' Bora," I state quietly and witness the biggest grin of the day light up his face.

"Well, alright, pal. Let's get down there and take a closer look."

As we drive the short distance down to the car show on this clear blue summer's day, I can truly appreciate the fact nothing more is needed.

* * *

_How good and pleasant it is when God's people live together in unity! Psalm 133:1_


End file.
